Just Like Always
by KatTheGracefulKlutz
Summary: Lloyd was sure that it was scary enough walking all the way across town in the dark with no way to defend yourself as a regular teenager, but as the singular most hated teenager in the entire city, he was terrified. /OR/ I write movieverse whump. Trigger warning for blood.


**Here, have this movieverse pre-movie whump starring Lloyd**

* * *

Lloyd swallowed harshly, gripping the straps of his backpack tightly just so he could have something to hold onto.

He had intended to take the train home, but every single employee at the station had refused to let him purchase a ticket, and he'd been left with no other choice than to walk home.

He was sure that it was scary enough walking all the way across town in the dark with no way to defend yourself as a _regular_ teenager, but as _the_ singular most hated teenager in the entire city, he was _terrified_.

He was only a few blocks away, now. Just a few more blocks and then he could eat dinner with his mom, do his homework (if being a perfect student wasn't enough for his teachers, he never wanted to find out what happened when he dropped _below_ an A), and go to bed.

If he cut through that alley… no, something bad was bound to happen if he tempted fate like that. But on the other hand, he was really no safer in that alley than he was on the street. Plus, if he cut through, he could get home way faster, and then nothing bad would happen!

Mind made up, he entered the alley, quickening his pace so he could clear it as quickly as possible.

He was almost out, before—

"Hey, _kid_."

Oh _no_.

"Mind telling us what exactly you're doing on our turf?"

"I'm sorry! I'll just—I'll just be going, you'll never see me again, I promise—!"

"Hold up." The man pushed himself away from the wall, backing Lloyd into the opposite one while studying his face. "You're that Garmadon brat, aren't you? Pythor, ain't this the Garmadon brat?"

A man with shaggy purple hair and an oddly long neck emerged from the shadows.

Lloyd turned to break into a run, but didn't make it farther than a step before he was grabbed by his backpack and shoved against a wall.

"Well, would you look at that, it _is_ him." The first man said.

Whatever was in his bag was digging into his back painfully, but he wasn't in much of a position to do anything about it.

"Your daddy has given us _quite _a bit of trouble." Pythor said. Lloyd startled, because the very last thing he expected was a _British accent_ coming from someone who looked like _that_.

"Look, I don't even _know_ him! I had nothing to do with anything—!"

A knife in his face was more than enough to shut him up.

"Quiet down and maybe we won't mess up your face too bad," the first guy said, gripping a switchblade right and holding it just over Lloyd's eyes.

Oh no, oh _no_. He was used to bullies, he was used to being avoided and hurtful words and even more hurtful punches, but this was a whole different level. He'd never been attacked by people like _this_ before.

"P-please…" he whimpered, whole body trembling from much more than the cold.

He was pulled away from the wall, and his backpack was ripped from his body, thrown off into the shadows somewhere.

The knife sliced through his jacket until it was in tatters on the ground.

Pythor shoved him, and he went down hard, breath knocked from him. Already, he was surrounded by at least four guys.

The sky was dark, but there wasn't a star to be seen.

"Please, I didn't _do_ anything!" Lloyd cried, but he knew it was futile. People would always want to hurt him, no matter what he'd done or who he was.

One of the guys kicked him in the side, _hard_. He gasped, curling in on himself. A flurry of kicks and hits followed.

If he didn't think about it then it wasn't really happening. If he didn't think about it then it wasn't really happening. If he didn't think about it—

The surge of attacks stopped.

Pythor held up a hand, then dropped so he was closer to being level with Lloyd. Holding the knife that had previously threatened his very vision, though now hovering it above Lloyd's stomach, he smiled.

"Tell me, dear boy, have you ever played Operation?"

* * *

Lloyd didn't get home until the early hours of the morning, backpack long forgotten and one leg in such bad condition that he'd hardly gotten up the stairs.

His clothes were sticky with blood, but he was too dazed to care. He just stumbled into the bathroom, turned the shower to the hottest it could go, and let the red get washed away.

Just like always.

* * *

**if you didn't get it, Pythor asked about the Operation game because he was gonna stab Lloyd repeatedly and half-heartedly try not to hit any vital organs**


End file.
